


Oh, this is how it starts, lightning strikes the heart, it goes off like a gun, brighter than the sun

by SilverShadow1



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Fluff, I also gave Charlie's dad a name because apparently the show didn't, I never know what to tag here, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Angst, Takes place immediately after the riot, The WASPiest name I could think of, These two are sickeningly cute I stg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:34:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24916927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverShadow1/pseuds/SilverShadow1
Summary: We all know that Alex found Charlie unconscious during the riot, but what happened afterwards? How did we get from there to Charlie waking up in Alex's bedroom?ORCharlie goes to the hospital and the two boys have a long-awaited discussion.
Relationships: Charlie St. George/Alex Standall
Comments: 17
Kudos: 120





	Oh, this is how it starts, lightning strikes the heart, it goes off like a gun, brighter than the sun

Everything was burning.

The ground felt like it was burning. His skin felt it was burning. More than anything, his eyes felt like they were burning every time he tried to open them.

_ Fuck, am I dying _ ?

Charlie felt another shot of pain course through his body as a pair of hands attempted to drag him. Screams were everywhere and all he wanted to do was go home and sleep.

No, that wasn’t right. All he wanted was to hear Alex’s voice again. To taste his lips again. Alex wasn’t ready for that, though, and -

Fuck, his head hurt. Why couldn’t he open his eyes?

“Help!” he heard a voice shout. “I need some fucking help!”

The voice sounded close, but also sort of distant. He wanted to help. Whoever was calling was clearly in distress and he’d do whatever he could to help them. That’s what he was doing before … before, what? How did he end up here?

_ The riot _ .

Suddenly, Charlie’s eyes snapped open and everything came back into focus. The walkout. The armed officers … dressed in full riot gear for a bunch of  _ school children _ . Then … he saw Clay getting dragged down and dove into the fray … his head …

“Jesus, Charlie, fucking stay still.”

His eyes widened. He must really be dying because that sounded like-

“Alex,” he croaked. He looked up at the blue-eyed boy in wonder. Then he felt his heart begin to hammer. “You shouldn’t be here … they’re violent. If you get hit - your head … your leg -”

“Spare me the heads, shoulders, knees and toes bit,” said Alex, though with no actual malice. “Fuck, Charlie. You’re the one that’s hurt, not me. An ambulance is on its way.”

“An amb - I’m  _ fine _ !” he protested. “There are others worse off -”

“And they’ll be getting checked, too. You were out cold. Your head is  _ bleeding _ . You could have a concussion.”

“You came,” he stated, staring at Alex in amazement.

“I did,” Alex confirmed. “I’m glad I did. You nearly scared me to death, Charles. I thought that I lost you.”

Suddenly, Alex was getting pulled back as Charlie was lifted onto a gurney.

“I’ll meet you at the hospital. Promise.”

He just smiled as the paramedics prepared to load him into the ambulance.

“The thing you said before?” he said, faintly. Alex looked at him in confusion. “You could never lose me.”

***

A concussion. A fucking concussion.

He knew that he should be more thankful that the football season was long over - even though this sure as hell messed with his workout regimen - but he was just glad it was only a mild one. Glad that it wasn’t Alex. Glad that Alex was outside waiting for permission to see him.

His father, on the other hand, was nearly spastic. Not that Charlie could really blame him.

“A riot!” his father exclaimed. “A riot with no one willing to take any responsibility for how a 16-year-old was rendered unconscious on the ground. I … there are no words!”

“In that case,” he said, weakly, “can you lower your voice?”

His father sighed, looking apologetic and nodding at him. Then suddenly, he crossed his arms.

“Why were you in the middle of that?”

“Because it’s where I was meant to be,” said Charlie, defiantly. “People are hurting. People are suffering and Liberty does nothing to change that. Weren’t you and Mom the ones who raised me to fight for myself and in support of others?”

His father was silent, evidently not expecting such a response. It was rare that they mentioned his mother. Not on his part for lack of wanting to, but … it was just easier.

“Mr. St. George.” The two men looked to the door where a nurse stood. “There’s a young man who’s spent the last few hours waiting to see you. Shall I send him in now?”

“Yeah, of course,” said Charlie before his father could respond.

“Who -?” his father began.

“My friend Alex,” said Charlie automatically.

Well,  _ friend _ .

“You look loads better,” were the first words out of Alex’s mouth when he entered the room. Then he flushed. “Sorry, I sounded like a jerk. I meant -”

“I know,” laughed Charlie. “I’ve heard pavement washes out my already pale skin.” He was met with unimpressed stares from his father and Alex. “Sorry … too soon, I guess.”

“I’m sorry, I never properly introduced myself,” said Alex, abruptly turning to Charlie’s father. “I’m Alex Standall, sir. I’m a senior at Liberty.”

Charlie felt his lip twitch watching his father as Alex extended a hand. Greetings and signs of respect were important to his father. Alex definitely earned points based on his firm handshake and use of ‘sir.’

“Henry St. George,” his father replied. “How is it that you know Charles given the two of you are a year apart?”

“We met through mutual friends,” Charlie interjected. Both men turned to him. “You remember I mentioned Tyler? The friend whose story I supported at the police station last year?”

Recognition dawned on his father’s face and he nodded solemnly before turning back to Alex. Charlie wished he could reach out and hold his hand. This is the last way that he would have wanted Alex to meet his father, yet here they were doing just that. Alex cleared his throat.

“They obviously wouldn’t say anything,” said Alex, looking from Charlie’s father to him. “Are you going to be … are you all right?”

“Yeah,” replied Charlie, and his heart fluttered as Alex visibly relaxed. “Just a mild concussion.”

“Mild,” Alex scoffed. “There’s nothing mild about a head injury.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” said Henry. Charlie shrugged the shoulder he didn’t land on earlier.

“Everyone always said football was dangerous,” he said. “What a twist of fate that the people sworn to protect us would send me here instead.”

“They told me that you’re the one who found me,” he continued. “You’re the one who pulled me away from Bolan’s car before it burst into flames.”

“ _ What _ ?” Henry hissed. “A car -”

“ _ Dad _ .”

“It was nothing,” said Alex, quickly. “I pulled you all of two feet.”

“It  _ was _ something,” he insisted. “Thank you.”

_ I love you _ was left unsaid. He knew in his heart it was true, quickness be damned.

“I - I need to go make some phone calls,” said Henry. He began to walk toward the door and then faltered, turning slightly to look at Alex. “Thank you … for - well …”

Alex nodded, clearly understanding what Charlie’s father couldn’t articulate because if he said it, then it reinforced how close he almost came to losing the other most important person in his life.

“Sit down, stay a while,” teased Charlie once his father left the room.

Alex’s lip twitched as he pulled a chair up to the side of his bed.

“Don’t mind my dad,” he said. “This hospital is … it’s the same -” His voice faltered when Alex covered his hand with his own.

“I understand,” said Alex, squeezing his hand. Then he shifted in his seat. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“I’m just glad you’re here, is all.”

“Then why do you look so sad?”

Charlie was silent a moment, weighing his next words.

“It seems like terror brings us together,” he said, softly. “The lockdown, the riot. All the chaos and bullshit from last winter. Sometimes I wish …”

“Tell me,” encouraged Alex, and Charlie exhaled.

“Sometimes I wish it was just easy. And I know we’re not together and that neither of us have told our parents that we’re not straight, but I guess -”

He was silenced by Alex leaning forward and capturing his lips. The kiss was gentle and brief, but it made Charlie’s head spin in a way that was far better than earlier.

“Was that okay to do?” asked Alex, softly. Charlie beamed at him.

“Yeah,” he said. “It was actually pretty perfect.”

“I’m not sure what the next weeks or even days will look like for us, Charlie,” said Alex, candidly. “I do know, though, that when I was with Zach earlier and he asked me why I wasn’t with you at the riot, something clicked for me. Something I was purposely avoiding because … so many of the things around us are fucked right now. So many things around us always will be, as well.”

“I suppose what I’m saying is, I’d like whatever we are to not be. Not be fucked, that is. When people ask me what the toughest part about being in a relationship is, I want to be able to say that it’s not tough. That it’s what makes everything else more bearable - better, even.”

“Alex Standall,” said Charlie, certain he was grinning from ear-to-ear. “Did you just ask me to be your boyfriend?”

Alex blinked several times and then grinned as well. A stunningly bright grin that burned brighter than everything else that day.

“I suppose I did, Charles Hayden Brixton St. George. Will you? Be my boyfriend?”

“Only if you’ll be mine.”


End file.
